Out of Darkness
by Gabigail
Summary: This is a Hotchner piece, which takes place during and after Natural Born Killer. I think that says it all. N.B: After seeing this past episode “the tribe”, I realise that I have some editing to do, so please keep that in mind as you read this. I will


Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

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Out of Darkness

My heart is beating, more accurately pounding against my rib cage in attempt to leap out of my chest as I sit in front of the man who wouldn't have thought twice to take my life. He does have a name. However, at this very moment the mere thought of it nearly makes me physically ill. It's Vincent; that is if you happened to be wondering. In all my years as a District Attorney, never have I encountered a case that has become so personal. It has taken years to develop the thick skin and the persona to conceal my inner emotions. A tried, tested, and true technique that enables me to remain calm on the exterior. Utilising this technique in my many years as a DA has always enabled me to remain in control; no matter the defendant I never allowed them to gain the upper hand. Yet here I am internally shuddering so violently that I'm almost certain that he can sense it, perhaps even see it in my eyes.

Vincent had very nearly beaten me to death, had Morgan not stumbled upon us when he had, the likelihood of his success in finishing me off right then, still fresh in my mind. When we arrived at the scrap metal yard, the team split and I made my way to what looked to be an abandoned structure that we had been certain held the kidnapped plain clothed officer. It had been dark, and with many cars and trucks parked, it made it easy for someone to hide. With my gun drawn between steady hands, I made my way towards the structure. However, I had been caught off guard and my gun knocked out of my hands, falling somewhere underneath one of the many vehicles. I hadn't seen the person who delivered the next blow, for I had then been dragged to my feet and smashed up against a cube truck, where whomever it was continued to pummel me. In all of this, I hadn't the chance to grab the second gun that I conceal in a holster around my left ankle. Granted, one cannot always account for every unforeseen variable, and I count myself lucky that Morgan showed up when he had, with Gideon not far behind. I had crumpled to the ground in a heap, having the wind knocked out of me. When I attempted to gain my footing, my legs remained weak and Gideon was immediately at my side.

"Take off your tie for once in your life." Gideon had said as he undid my tie and the first few buttons on my bloodied shirt. Then placed a strong arm around my shoulders.

Now sitting in front of Vincent, nothing between us, thank god he's cuffed to the chair. I find myself mentally counting my incredible luck, despite the pain of breathing, I take as deep a breath as I can manage from somewhere within. Loosening my posture, resting my elbows upon my thighs I lean in towards Vincent. I cannot help but notice the terrible anger that blazes in his eyes, reminiscent of that which I have experienced many times before in the courtroom. Taking my time, as though choosing my words carefully. He continues to stare intently.

"You were just responding to what you had learned Vincent. When you grow up like that, in an extremely abusive and violent household, it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers." I pause knowing that the words will resonate within him. I can see the result in his dark eyes. He rattles his hands in his restraints and I continue to maintain my cool façade, not allowing his obvious anger to strike my core. Allowing him that would grant him the upper hand, and would no doubt result in that unexplainable cold chill to run down my spine like water rushing towards a fall and conclude with that involuntary shake. I cannot nor will I allow him that satisfaction. Maintaining control, I insert the proverbial iron rod in my spine and maintain my calmness in the situation. Officers enter the interrogation room. One unlocks the shackles while the other is careful to keep him in place. Feeling uncomfortable, I stand and move away from them.

"Some people?" he questions me in a gruff voice. A voice I know he has effectively used to instil fear in his victims. I sigh quietly thinking how they must have felt to know that that unfeeling, that ugly voice would be the last they would hear before he finally took their life. I turn to look at him for a moment.

"What's that?" my reply more of a question as they begin to drag him away.

"You said some people grow up to become killers." He repeats a notch above his last inquiry. I look at him, hardening my gaze, hoping to instil a fraction of the fear, control, and power he once possessed over so many.

"And some people grow up to catch them." My reply simple and I watch as he's dragged out of the room to lockup.

Suddenly, standing becomes a chore, something difficult as I feel my legs threatening to buckle beneath me, yet at the same time that iron rod in my back, extends into my legs and I am able to maintain control. Morgan stands beside me, a smile on his lips. He doesn't have to say a word; he claps my shoulder and directs me towards the exit. Funny how once again it's Morgan who seems to understand, he's the one who found me crumpled in a heap while the others, unaware of my situation, were on task in finding our victim. If it weren't for Morgan I'd surely be dead, for there was no way that Vincent would have left me to testify.

"Morgan, if I haven't said it already. Thanks." I say in a quiet tone with a bit of a smile. He merely nods his response as we head towards the SUV and he drives back to Quantico.

Although I'm drained both emotionally and physically, I cannot let my eyes close, I cannot let sleep relax me. Besides, we'll be back at Quantico before I know it and I'll be driving home to Haley.

My sweet Haley, the one who brought me from the horrendous darkness that once seemed to surround me into the light. She is a constant reminder of everything that is truly good in this world, blessing me with one of the greatest gifts, that of a baby girl. It's these thoughts that keep me here, these thoughts that remind me of why I'm doing what I do. It is even possible that these thoughts drive me to continue that which I had begun the moment I had decided to study law. I was still in high school, unsure of so many things. Arriving home late from track practice, I will never forget what I walked in on. Everything was tuned upside down and dinner burnt to a crisp. Calling out to my parents and receiving no answer, I knew in an instant that something was a miss. Turning the corner and entering the living room, I encountered so much blood I swear I was going to be ill. Somewhere within the blood my father's body lay in a heap. I recall the blood trail leading upstairs and didn't bother to check it out, instead running for the telephone and calling the police. It's very possible that it was during that experience that I decided to become a prosecutor. However, it wasn't too long before I realised that by the time I come in contact with them, it's merely a formality and I knew I needed to do more. Hence, becoming an FBI agent has lent to my slowly helping those who have been through similar situations.

Morgan pulls into Quantico's parking lot and cuts the engine. Getting out I find my keys and begin the trek to my SUV.

"Hotch, you okay?" Gideon inquires, catching up.

"Sure." I reply quietly. He puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

"Aaron, you need some rest and probably some time to heal." The wiser agent says with a warm smile. "Perhaps you should consider taking a couple of days off to regroup. Be sure that you're up to par." He adds as we continue our trek to our awaiting cars. Turning to look at him I nod and press the button on my key chain, unlocking the doors and toss my bag onto the back seat. To take Gideon's advice may not be such a terrible idea after all, I find myself thinking as I pull my black Trailblazer into the driveway. Cutting the engine I find that I have to sit for a long moment to mentally regroup. Finally deciding to leave what happened behind, I turn in my seat and reach for my over night bag on the backseat and quickly make my way towards the inviting front door, making sure to press the lock button on my key ring.

Slipping the key into its lock, I slowly turn the handle, quietly opening the door and closing it behind me with the gentlest of clicks before locking the door. I drop my over night bag on the floor just under the hall table and slowly remove my trench coat, grabbing a hanger and hanging the garment in the closet. I suppose my movements are mechanical, routine even. Then are broken the moment I find myself wrapped within a comforting, warm embrace.

"Aaron." Haley says in a fairly quiet voice, pressing her cheek against my back and, not being aware of my injuries, squeezes me, pressing my back against her warm body. Kissing the back of my neck, she turns me within her embrace. "It's so good to have you home." She adds with her bright smile, which is contagious.

"Haley."

"What is it?" she inquires holding me, pressing herself against me. I almost have to squirm. "Are you alright?" she steps back, still holding onto my waist; she looks into my eyes, into my very soul. "What happened to you?" Returning her gaze, knowing that with her the truth is the best course of action.

"Morgan stopped the un-sub from nearly beating me to death." I reply calmly. She reaches up and caresses my slightly bruised cheek and traces my jaw line with a feather like touch. I close my eyes for a moment and we make our way upstairs. It's been one hell of a day, and sleep would definitely be a blessing, I muse.

"A hot shower should help you feel better." She suggests, almost pushing me into the bathroom.

"Haley." I attempt to protest, but then the thought of washing his gaze and the physical bruises he's inflicted upon my body seems to appeal to me. I suppose seeing me like this is the cause of her fretting over me, which I allow for right at this moment I am far too drained to object. Nor do I object to her joining me. The hot water pelts against my body, as the steam seems to help open up my breathing. Haley stands behind me and runs the soap filled washcloth over my back and shoulders, up and down my arms. I turn to face her, taking the cloth from her hands and running it gently over her soft skin and she turns around to allow me full range of her back. I pause for a moment and she turns once more to look into my eyes and smiles, which warms me like morning sunlight.

"You're okay. That's what matters." She says as she turns the water off and grabs the towels she had hung on the rack beside the shower. "Allow me." She carefully pats my damp body dry. I smile and take the other towel and return the favour before wrapping her up within the fluffy towel. She's really quite wonderful and I cannot help but wonder how she puts up with me. I'm broody on a good day and yet here she is, fussing over me as though I'm a little boy. She runs her slender fingers through my damp hair and smiles as she stands on her tiptoes, kissing me sweetly.

"I'm heading to bed." Her announcement accompanies her beautiful expression that warms my heart. I reach out and run my fingers over her soft cheek before cupping it gently and leaning into her, kissing her once again. She's so small in my arms and I inhale the sweet scent of her hair then kiss the top of her head before letting her go.

"I'll be right there. Is she still asleep?" I inquire in a hushed tone. She nods and makes her way back to our bedroom. Finishing my evening ritual, I sneak a peek at my little one. Haley has finally moved her from our bedroom into the nursery, and the new crib we spent weeks trying to agree upon. Ever so quietly I open the door and slip in. Fast asleep is our little one, her arms raised so that her little hands are in loose fists resting above the blanket surrounding her head. I love the look upon her face, as it's so angelic, so innocent by the pale moonlight that seeps into the room through the gauzy curtains. I cannot help but hope that the world will be a better place for her as I gently pull the little blanket just under her little chin with a tender smile. Returning to our bedroom, I'm hardly surprised to find Haley fast asleep. My angel, I smile as I carefully sit on the edge of the bed, swinging my legs up so that I do not wake her. Staring up at the ceiling, I think about my life, the choices I've made and the things that I have somehow missed. Then taking a deep breath, I let myself be engulfed within sleeps sweet embrace.

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Please R&R... Thank you 


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